


A Little Helper from a Friend

by hi_im_dazey



Series: Poppy's Stories [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Happy family ending, Kitten, No actual sex, Witchcraft, happy sam feels, if you like stories where sam get to be happy and feel some loves you'll probably like this, literally fluffy, not a crossover but maybe a spoiler if you haven't seen shaun of the dead, sam!witch, slightly snarky dean, so I thought I'd warn you, some sexy thoughts, three flavours cornetto trilogy mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 18:58:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18430115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hi_im_dazey/pseuds/hi_im_dazey
Summary: Rowena summons a little gift for Sam.





	A Little Helper from a Friend

A Little Helper from a Friend

He seemed to like her best when she was snarky and antagonistic with him. His eyes would flare to life, a charming smirk would make his dimples appear. After she had baited him with a stinging remark, for a split second she could see what looked like desire dancing in his eyes. She wasn’t sure if it was a desire to make her stop teasing him, fuck her ‘til she couldn’t walk, or one by way of the other. But she was sure she wanted to find out the fun way.

Unfortunately, no matter how she teased him, he just kept on the same, and would not rise to the bait. She called him ‘Samuel’, a name she knew he hated. He allowed his brother the right to call him Sammy. Anyone else that called him anything other than ‘Sam’ was met with the piercing glare of a man who’d killed all the monsters and the offender was next. Followed with a terse,

“It’s Sam.”

But when she called him Samuel, he only smiled indulgently. That light flaring up in his eyes.

Once she thought she caught a glimpse of an image flickering through his mind. He was imagining a way to make her scream out ‘Samuel’ that had nothing to do with getting her to stop saying it. She could catch thoughts from most people easily, but this was the first time Samuel’s mind had opened to her. It was more like he wanted her to see it than she was looking for it. She was encouraged by this, but still he refused to act on it.

She tried teasing him in front of others, hoping she’d push the right button and he would grab her away somewhere more private to save himself from ribbing by his brother and friends. Maybe press her against a wall in the hallway, his strong hands holding her where he wanted her, and chastise her in a low, but deliciously forceful, whisper. A thrill ran through her at this thought.

Then she tried flirting with other people in front of him. Surely, all men had a flame of jealousy to stoke. Well, she soon discovered this overgrown puppy of a man just wanted everyone to be happy, so he didn’t really understand or do jealousy, so that was a bust. Even letting herself get caught with Gabriel had only made him realize he might think of her as more of a friend than an enemy. She could read his reaction clearly. But still, he made no move.

Now, usually, she was not the sort to leave the whole thing up to the man. Normally, if she wanted someone, she made it crystal clear and was very upfront. However, she had studied him long enough to know a few things about him. Such as that he liked strong women, because he liked to have a worthy adversary in all things, including sex.

But she was also sensitive to some of the things she had overheard, and some of the cues she had picked up on from his reactions, that he had issues with his own body autonomy and consent. She knew the best way to get Samuel Winchester was to wait for him to realize he needed her.

Unfortunately, Rowena was impatient. She put the finishing touches on the summoning spell to call the little helper forth. A snippet of stolen hair, a scrap of a flannel shirt…a flame from a matchbook she’d stolen from his pocket; there was a flash of purple light. This was followed by a tiny *POP* sound. Rowena smiled and made arrangements to sic this little helper on Samuel Winchester.

***

Sam, Dean, and Jack were having movie night.

They had started a little earlier than normal, because they wanted to get through all of _Three Flavours Cornetto_ trilogy in one sitting. _Shaun of the Dead_ was almost over. Sam could feel Dean tense, ready to jump up as soon as it was over and run to the kitchen for more beer and snacks.

While Dean was in the kitchen, Sam cued up _Hot Fuzz_ and Jack asked questions about the moral ambiguity of keeping Nick Frost chained up in the shed, rather than just killing him.  Sam thought about the plots of the next two movies and wondered if a week of questions about moral ambiguity was worth it. Suddenly there was a tiny sound from the staircase.

Sam and Jack both looked up to the top landing. Dean returned with a six pack and a bowl of popcorn to see them staring with shocked faces as a tiny calico kitten wandered its way down the steps. It did this by wiggling to the edge of one step and launching itself down onto the next. Once it got to the room, it walked over to the couch the guys had been sharing. Then it climbed up Sam’s denim covered leg, got into his lap, curled up and fell asleep instantly. The purring was so loud it was hard to reconcile the volume with the size of the tiny thing.

“Uh…” Sam said.

“Huh.” Jack paused, his brow furrowed, he looked at Dean, “Do we have a cat?”

“I…uh… no?” Dean answered.

“How did it get into the bunker?” Jack asked.

“Well, the place isn’t warded against cats.” Dean answered

“But the door was closed.” Sam wondered if he should move… he didn’t want to disturb it, it looked so happy.

Dean put down the beer and popcorn and grabbed an EMF meter off the table in the next room and came back, he turned it on and slowly moved it towards the little ball of fur. The meter stayed silent; the kitten’s ear twitched. Apparently, the cat could sense the meter, but the meter could not sense the cat.

“Dean,” Sam sighed, “It’s not a ghost. A ghost couldn’t get in here, it’s just a cat.”

“How’d it get in?”

“Well it did make a sound when it came in.” Jack offered.

“Meow?” Dean said, sarcastically.

“No,” Jack and Sam said together

Jack continued,

“More like a ‘Pop’”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up…

“The cat went ‘Pop’? I don’t think that’s a sound that cats make.” Dean wryly pointed out.

“Can we keep it?” Jack asked, in a way that reminded Dean that he was the world’s tallest 2-year-old.

Dean turned slightly so he was looking straight at Jack and said,

“A strange cat materializes inside of a locked door that is warded against the worlds’ worst evils, and strongest magics, with a ‘POP’, and you want to keep it?”

Sam’s hand was gently stroking the little thing now. It was very soft and purring nicely and Sam felt happy and satisfied that the kitten had decided he was a good, safe place to sleep. Sam stroked a finger on its head and found himself so entranced with its sweet little face, that he did not realize for at least a minute that Dean and Jack were both staring at him.

“Sam. That’s not a cat. Cats don’t teleport into your home with a popping sound. Stop petting it.” Dean ordered.

Sam knew that the cat’s method of entry, and mere presence were both signs that he should stop and try to figure out what it was, if not a cat. But he did not seem able to stop. Not in a ‘forced by magic’ sort of way; he just didn’t want to. It was nice to pet, and it was purring so happily. He normally considered himself a dog person, but he liked cats too. The main reason he had always preferred to think about getting a dog was that Dean wasn’t allergic to dogs, so he figured he had more of a shot at having a dog than a cat.

“Hey, you’re not sneezing!” he said to Dean.

“Yet another reason to put on the list of ‘WHY THIS ISN’T A CAT’!” Dean threw up his hands.

“Well, I mean, I don’t think it’s evil.” Sam said.

Dean looked as his brother like Sam was insane,

“Okay. I’ll bite. Why is the cat, that I am not allergic to, that literally popped into the warded bunker, not evil?”

“That’s just it. The bunker is warded against evil. And warded against strong magic. It was able to get in and none of the sensors went off, the bunker didn’t lock down. If it meant to harm us something would have gone off, or it would not have gotten in.” Sam paused. “Maybe all it can do is teleport around with a ‘pop’.”

“So? Are you saying it’s not evil enough to set off the wards?”

“Well, I don’t think it’s evil at all, Dean… it’s a kitten.” Dean rolled his eyes at Sam, “But, yes basically I think maybe it doesn’t have enough magic in it to register with the wards.”

Dean closed his eyes and rubbed his hand down his face in exasperation.

“No… no no no…” He swooped down and picked the cat up. Holding it by its scruff he swept up the stairs opened the door and deposited it outside. Slamming the door shut, he made the following proclamation, complete with arm flourishing, to the war room, from the landing,

“New rule: No mysterious, popping cats in the bunker”

*POP*

The cat was not only instantly back in the bunker, but back in Sam’s lap.

“If it helps,” Jack said, cheerfully, “I can tell it’s not a demon.”

Dean looked at him and shook his head

Sam got his phone out,

“I’ll call Rowena, maybe she can come over and tell us what it is.”

Sam hit the speed dial for her. It went straight to voicemail.

“Hi Rowena, it’s Sam, call me back, when you can, we have a very small, uh, not even really a problem, but definitely something you could help us with. When you have a minute.”

The kitten continued to show interest in absolutely nothing but sleeping on Sam’s lap. Since they were going to have to wait for Rowena to call back, which she might, or just suddenly show up, which was what she normally did, they went back to watching the movies.

Sam found himself idly petting the soft warm thing, eventually the kitten turned so its belly was offered up. Sam gently smoothed his hand over the furry little tummy. The kitten was now completely asleep and slung over Sam’s thigh with its tiny pink toe beans shown off. Limp as a wet cloth. Again, he slowly became aware that Dean and Jack were staring at him and he realized he’d focused so completely on their little visitor that he’d missed all of _Hot Fuzz_.

He started _The World’s End_ for them _._ Then, cradling the kitten in his hand, he stood up, and announced he was going to bed.

“What are you going to do about the not-a-cat?” Dean asked.

“Keep my ringer on in case Rowena calls, I guess.”

He yawned. He felt sleepy in a truly relaxed way for once. Not the desperate exhaustion that followed a hunt. Not the ‘brain shut down’ from too much research, or spell work for days on end with no breaks. But just the sort of relaxed, sleepy feel after a plain old good day. The things he’d been worrying over before the movies had faded away. Not forgotten at all, but not jostling around demanding his insomnia pay attention to them. He felt like he might get a good night’s sleep for once.

He grabbed a small box from a pile of cardboard he meant to break down later and put the kitten in his flannel’s breast pocket to free up both hands. He popped the top off the cross-cut shredder and filled the box with paper flakes. He hoped the little thing would take the hint and use this for a litter box for the night. He started making a mental list of things to buy for her in the morning, and then stopped himself. Dean was right, this probably wasn’t a cat. He probably shouldn’t buy her stuff.

He got to his bedroom. He put the box down, took the little visitor out of his pocket and set her in the box.

“I hope this is a good litter box for you.” She looked up at him, showing big green eyes and made a scratchy little meow. He stood up and changed into his tee shirt and lounge pants. She meowed again. He wandered down to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, took a leak, and washed his hands.

Once he got back to the bedroom, he saw that she had come out of the box and was now sitting on the floor by the bed, she meowed at him again. He smiled and meowed back, as he closed the door, only to be met with a,

“SERIOUSLY?” from Dean, who was walking by Sam’s door on his way to the bathroom, “It’s not a cat Sammy.”

Sam rolled his eyes and got under the covers. He hoped she’d come to him and sleep on the bed. But he knew enough about cats to know it was better to let them make that sort of decision.

Just as he was dozing off he heard a faint *pop*, followed by a much closer and louder *POP*, and then the feel of fur snuggling down between his neck and shoulder. The purring started right up. That’s how they fell asleep, Sam on his stomach, as usual, with a tiny fur ball with its motor running snuggled up to the back of his neck.

***

Sam was dreaming. For once he was actually dreaming. Not reliving some horrifying fight or having a nightmare about something awful coming for him, or Dean being dead. Not obsessively tormenting himself with his time in the cage or remembering fragments of horrible things he had done when he had been soulless; no, he was dreaming.

He was dreaming he was fishing. But he wasn’t fishing with a pole. He was sitting cross legged on the side of a koi pond filled with tiny goldfish and just sort of poking his hand in and trying to catch them. He was bad at it, but that was okay. He was focused, and the sounds of the water and the sunlight glinting off the surface as he disturbed the pond were very soothing.

Surrounding him was a lush garden of ferns, flowers and stands of bamboo. There were mossy stones stacked up at the back of the pond and a small trickle of water came rippling down them into the pool. The air was full of the smell of rain and flowers, he took deep, even breaths. It was perfect and peaceful. He heard a wind-chime in the distance.

Then something rubbed on his nose. It tickled and was making a loud sound, whatever it was. He started to wake up and slowly came to realize that the little kitten was rubbing its nose and cheeks all over his face while purring. This sure beat waking up to a screaming nightmare. He rolled over onto his back and his little visitor followed and stood on his chest. It was sweet and pleasant, and he felt good. The peaceful garden of his dream seemed to linger.

Until she started screaming MEEEEEEEOOOOOOOWWWWWW at him. He knew instantly from this that she was hungry. He got up, holding her snug to his sleep-warmed chest with one hand and took her to the kitchen. He set her down on the floor and started to look through the ice box for something that wasn’t beer, coffee, or bacon. In the back of one of the ice box compartments he found some leftover fried chicken. He tore a little shred of meat off a drumstick and turned around to offer it to her. Before he could bend down there was a *POP* and she was up on the counter next to him. She sniffed the chicken.  She made that delicate sneer cats make when they are smelling a new thing. Sniffed it again. Gave it a tentative lick, then sat down on her butt and looked at Sam with those big green eyes and screamed MEEEEOWWWW again.

“Okay, so you don’t like chicken. Let’s see what else there is,” He found some bacon that Dean had fried up to add to a future burger, wrapped up in a zipper bag, he broke off a piece and offered it to her saying “You better not like bacon, if Dean has to share bacon with you, I can’t guarantee your safety.”

Luckily, she turned her small, pink and black splotched nose up at the bacon. Then she looked at him again, and he found himself caught in her eyes and unable to look away and she once again screamed MEEEEEOOOOWWWW, His vision blurred over and his dream about the goldfish came flooding back and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt he had just been told she only liked fish. His vision cleared, he smiled at her and said,

“I see, little Miss ‘only likes fish.’ This I can do.” He went to the cupboard and pulled out a can of tuna fish. He opened it up and scraped the meat out with a fork onto a saucer without draining it. He knew this was probably too much food for the tiny thing, but he also knew cats usually stopped eating when they were full, unlike dogs. This would help him figure out how much of a can was enough for her. He set the saucer of food down on the floor. There was a *POP* and her little head rubbed across his wrist as he set the plate down. She dove in.

Sam busied himself making coffee, occasionally watching her tackle the pile of fish. He checked his watch and realized he’d gotten a full 8 hours of sleep, and really felt it. He could not remember the last time he’d woken up feeling like he’d gotten any sleep at all. He didn’t realize he was staring at the kitten with a big goofy grin until Dean stumbled in, surveyed the scene before him and said,

“It’s not a cat, Sam.”

“Well then, what is she?”

“She?”

“Calico; always girls.” Sam answered.

“Nerd.” Dean said, “Has Rowena called?”

“Rowena? I uh, don’t know I didn’t even look at my phone. She” he nodded towards the kitten, “woke me up and demanded breakfast so I came straight in here.”

The goofy grin threatened to return. Dean stared at him. Sam’s capacity to just love everything around him was one of the things Dean secretly admired about him. He couldn’t imagine being that open to the possibility of good in everyone. But he also viewed it as part the ‘take care of Sammy’ job description tattooed on his brain to ensure that this optimism did not get Sam into danger.

Sam became aware of the appraising look on Dean’s face and straightened up. He set down his coffee cup, saying,

“Uh yah, going to get my phone, right now.” He hurried down to his room and scooped his phone up off the charging pad. He was half way back when he heard a faint *pop* followed by Dean muttering _“sonofabitch”._ He came back into the room to find Dean sitting at the table, milk carton, cereal box, bowl, spoon, coffee cup, and bristling kitten defending Dean’s breakfast from him, on the table in front of him.

Sam, not really trying to hide his smile, grabbed his coffee, a bowl and spoon for himself, and sat down opposite Dean. The kitten immediately lost interest in Dean and sauntered over to Sam. She sat down next to his coffee cup and began to clean her little face. Sam poured himself some cereal and milk after Dean had, then started going through his phone for any missed calls or messages.

There was a text message from Charlie with a chess move. They were playing a game of long-distance chess. He thought about the current layout of the board and realized she may have just stalemated them. He frowned slightly but moved on to the next message. It was from Jack asking if he was awake yet. Jack did not sleep much, and since a sound sleep was normally elusive for Sam, Jack often sought him out for discussions and card games in the wee small hours. There was a message from Cass saying he expected to return to the bunker at some point in the next week, or two. Cass did not really have a handle on hunter check ins. Sam was weary of trying to explain it to him, so he just accepted Cass’s vague messages when he got them. They’d know if something was wrong with him.

There was a missed call from Rowena, but no voice mail or text from her. The call had come in while he’d been feeding the kitten. A sudden, sharp, thread of worry pierced through him. Rowena not answering his call last night was a little odd, he suddenly realized she had only ever not picked up his call once before, and she was a pile of ash on the floor at the time. He’d supposed she might have been asleep or indisposed last night. But her not leaving a message seemed a little odd. Dean must have noticed his worried expression.

“Is she okay?”

Sam got up as he hit the button for her speed dial and stalked out into the hallway. Again, it went straight to voicemail.

“Rowena, I missed your call. Call me back,” he was about to disconnect, but then he lowered his voice, so Dean couldn’t hear him from the kitchen, and added, “I’m starting to get worried about you.” He regretted it as soon as he hung up. She wasn’t helpless. She was a very powerful witch. If she needed his help or was in any trouble, she’d make sure he knew. He felt a little silly for worrying after a collection of three total missed calls between them. He walked back into the kitchen and sat down. He was distracted by the missed calls and absently ate his cereal with one hand and let the kitten play hunting pounces with the other.

Dean waited until Sam was done eating and repeated his question.

“Is Rowena okay, Sam?”

“Missed calls, dunno.” Sam said as he stood up and went to wash his bowl and spoon.  When he was done washing up, he turned to Dean and said,

“Look, I set her up a little makeshift litterbox, and she’s been fed, but I think I better run into town and get her some actual cat food and a real litter box.”

“Actual cat food? She’s not actually a cat.” He said

“Well she eats tuna,” he glanced down at the saucer on the floor and saw that she had eaten about a third of the tuna. “And if she is even partly a cat she needs cat food.”

“Not a cat, Sam.”

“Look, just keep an eye on her for me, I’ll be back quick.”

Dean agreed but had a hunch that he wouldn’t have to. He thought for a moment, then yelled after Sam,

“Don’t take Baby! Take one of the other cars!” Dean really did not want a not-a-cat in the Impala, and he was pretty sure the thing was going with Sam whether Sam thought so or not.

Sam pretended he didn’t hear that and, after getting dressed, took the Impala anyway.

Dean watched the not-a-cat while he worked through a second bowl of cereal. The not-a-cat watched him back. When a few minutes had passed, and the thing went *POP*; as it disappeared he muttered,

“Yup, saw that coming.” And got up to get more coffee.

***

Rowena listened to Sam’s voicemail. The pause, a slight hitch to his breath, the statement of concern in a low, rough whisper... So sweet, so satisfying. She smiled to herself. She decided to let him stew a little bit longer. She still hadn’t heard the magic words.

***

Sam was about half way into town when the kitten popped up on the dashboard. He swerved a little but adjusted quickly.

“Well hello.” He said as he pulled the car over.

“MEOW!” Clearly the little thing was annoyed at being left behind and had decided Sam belonged to her.

“Okay, I dunno if you can actually understand me, you seem to be pretty good at making me understand you, but you can’t sit up there while I am driving, so,” he felt a little foolish doing this, but he unsnapped the breast pocket on his jacket and held it open. “Can you, uh, pop in here so you’re safe and out of the way?”

*pop*

The warm weight of her was suddenly in his pocket. He looked down and her tiny face stared up at him. He smiled at her and got back on the road.

When he arrived at the feed and pet store, he had a very clear list of just a few items in his head. Food for a few days, litter pan, scoop, litter.

He walked into the store. He thought maybe he should also get her a little dish, maybe a toy.

An hour later he walked back into the bunker with a large box full of cat stuff. He was not entirely sure of when he’d lost control of his small list. A half an hour later a corner of his room had been turned into a little kitten space. Toys, a little cat bed, a cardboard scratching post, a plastic jar of catnip was on one of his bookshelves. Her litter box was tucked into a corner in the bathroom. He looked down at her, a little green velvet collar with a silver bell around her neck. She gave him a slow blink and then rubbed herself across his ankles.

“Oh crap,” he said under his breath, “I think I own a cat now.”

***

Dean had seen the litter box. He’d sighed.

 He’d heard the jingling of the collar bell when he walked by Sam’s room. He’d sighed.

He saw the little ceramic food dish that was printed over with pictures of Pusheen. He’d sighed.

He got to the war room. He could see Sam through the Passage into the library, books and ingredients spread out before him on the wooden table, a silver chalice and three candles arranged directly in front of him. He’d been trying to figure out one phrase in the list of ingredients for this spell for about a week.

The spell’s author had not exactly written it in code, but they’d clearly leaned too heavily on poetic imagery. There was one line none of them, not even Cass, whose mind seemed to take a poetic turn more than most, could figure out. What the spell required here, continued to elude their understanding. Sam had been trying tiny modified versions with every ingredient he could think of. He was convinced he could figure this out and if he did, this spell could end up being a very useful defense for them. If the missing ingredient did not turn out to be super rare.

The rest of the spell was shockingly common, and easy to find ingredients. The incantation was simple. If they were interpreting the flowery language correctly it should manifest a thin shield, large enough to protect one person, and more importantly, move with them. Not for long, but maybe buy them a few minutes of portable protection from ghosts and demons.

Barring the mystery ingredient, it seemed to only want benign stuff too, so it would fall firmly in the school of white magic, which made Dean more comfortable with Sam tinkering with it. Even the incantation only seemed to be asking the nearest angel for help. Dean didn’t think it meant literally turning to a guy in a wrinkled trench coat, who was standing uncomfortably close to you, and asking for help. However, since he did that all the time without a second thought, the incantation didn’t bother him at all.

Of course, if the mystery ingredient turned out to be something dark or malignant or require a death to get, Sam would give up on it. The spell would still be useful, but neither he nor Dean would feel comfortable using it. Dean had a line in his head where these things were too much like full witchcraft, and he refused to let Sam cross that line.

Deep down he knew that if Sam went there, he’d be frighteningly adept at it. The thought alone scared the crap out of him. It seemed like most of his life he’d either been afraid for, or of, his brother because of what was boiling inside of Sam’s blood. He knew Sam held a similar fear of himself. So, Dean drew the lines, and Sam toed them when it came to spells. But it did not escape Dean’s notice that Sam could easily do spells Dean couldn’t get to work. Or that everyone instinctively turned to Sam to do the spell work.

He just knew he had to keep the lines firm; keep Sam safe.

“Dammit.” Sam muttered. “What even does this mean?” He raked his hair back out of his face with a frustrated fierceness. Dean came into the library.

“I was gonna ask if you were having any luck, but I guess I got my answer.”

“It’s got to be something simple. The rest of this spell is so… obvious and easy. If I can just figure out what this one thing is… I can make little hex bags of it and we can just say the incantation… This is so frustrating.”

*POP*

Dean and Sam looked at the interloper, stunned. She had something in her mouth. She placed it neatly in front of Sam, used her tiny paw to push it towards him a little, making a sweet ‘chirrup’ sound. Then she padded over to a clear spot on the table, curled up in a little ball and fell asleep.

Sam picked up the offering. He studied it, sniffed at it,

“It’s a lavender stem.” He said.

“Huh,” Dean said, “But didn’t you already try lavender, because of the “purple star” thing?” he referenced part of the confusing line.

“Not the stem. The flowers; yes.” He took the stem and cut a small piece off and added it to the chalice. He spoke the incantation and directed the will of the spell at himself. And a moment later there was a silvery flash and he was encased in a glowing shield.

“Dean, time it!”

Dean tapped the stopwatch function on his phone.

Sam reread the problematic line… suddenly feeling stupid in retrospect.

“ _The constellation of the purple stars we walk by_ … it’s not the stars themselves, it’s the lines that define the constellations… the stems holding the stars together.”

Dean stared at Sam, wondering how long the shield would hold, and how long it would take Sam to realize the not-a-cat had solved the puzzle for him. This was gonna be an interesting few minutes.

After three and a half minutes the shield began to fade.

At the four-fifteen mark it was clearly gone.

At five minutes, Sam suddenly looked at the not-a-cat, sputtered and jumped back. Almost knocking the chair behind him over and following it himself.

“She…she… how did she?”

“That was fun.” Dean said, with a smirk, before losing all humor and becoming dead serious, “Call Rowena, right now. Make her get her ass over here.”

“Make her? I can’t make her do anything.”

Dean smirked in an annoying, all-seeing, big brother sort of a way and then said,

“Oh, I think you can.” He turned to leave and that’s when he noticed the kitten’s collar had a little bell and tag on it. The tag looked like it was silver. He reached down and saw that the tag was one of the silver anti-possession charms they kept in the Impala. Sam had gone out of his way to protect the cat. He turned it over in his fingers, seeing that Sam had had the back engraved. Sam’s phone number was on the back… and a name.

“You named the not-a-cat?”

Sam blushed, and ducked his head a little to hide it, answering,

“Yah.”

“You named the not-a-cat.” Dean sighed.

Jack, upon entering the library asked,

“What did you name it?”

“Poppy.” Sam answered sheepishly, blush deepening. It had seemed funny and perfect at the pet store, and when he asked the kitten if that was okay she seemed to approve it with a slow blink and a purr. But now in front of his brother and kid, he felt more than a little silly.

“Sammy,” Dean said to him, in a tone he hadn’t used since Sam had been about five, “Listen to me, this thing is teleporting, has fixated on you, doesn’t trigger cat allergies, or set off the warding. It brought you a spell ingredient you’ve been hammering your brain out over for a week… this is not a cat. Please, do not get attached to this whatever-it-is.  Call Rowena and make her come here, please.”

“Okay Dean,” Sam suddenly realized how far he’d let the not-a-cat get under his skin. He needed to know what this thing was, right away.

***

He’d said the magic words. His last message had been hushed, breathless, and only,

“Rowena, I need you.”

She gathered up her things and made her way to the bunker. Smiling in anticipation the whole drive.

When she arrived, she found them standing around the map table, watching something on it. She knew what it was, of course, but she wasn’t prepared for when Sam looked up at her. His face creased with desperate worry in a way that almost broke her heart.

“Rowena,” he sighed her name out in relief, “Come here… what is this? We need to know.”

She came around and stood next to Samuel. She felt him instinctively lean towards her until her shoulder was brushing against his arm.

“Uhm, is this a trick question? It’s a ca…” she started with false innocence.

“It’s not a cat.” Dean cut her off.

“What do ye mean? Anyone can see it’s just a wee small kitten.”

*POP*

The not-a-cat was now on Sam’s shoulder, rubbing a cheek on his jaw and purring.

“Oh, I see.” Rowena said. “You’d best tell me the whole story.”

Sam and Jack started explaining how the cat had appeared, Sam explained the odd things the cat had done, and Dean interjected with “It’s not a cat” every time someone called it a cat.

Rowena tried very hard to keep a straight face. When they were done with their story, Rowena turned to Jack and said,

“My dear boy, go to the kitchen and make your Auntie a pot of tea, please. I will come and enjoy it in the kitchen with you momentarily.” Her voice dripping with honey and genuine affection. She had come to be quite fond of Jack, but she needed to be alone with Sam. Next, she turned to Dean and said, “Dean please go put down some supper for the kitten. I need to talk to Sam alone.”

“No… you tell him anything, you tell him in front of me.”

“Darling lad, it should be Sam’s choice after he’s heard what I say. If he wants to tell you he will. But I feel I need to leave that decision to him.”

Dean thought about this for a moment and decided to acquiesce. He reached up to take the kitten and was hissed at for his trouble. Sam made a shushing sound and said to her,

“C’mon now, Poppy, don’t you want some fish?” with a *pop* she was gone, from the kitchen there was a faint, second pop, followed by Jack saying,

“Neat!”

Rowena was genuinely surprised that Sam had gotten that far with the little thing already. And the name he’d given her… Rowena’s heart was melting.

Once they were alone, Sam asked her in a hushed and worried voice, leaning his head down and close to hers,

“What is Poppy?”

He grabbed her hand without even thinking of it, a spark flew through her from the touch. She could tell that a list of possible monsters was spinning through his head, and he was terrified that Dean was going to make him get rid of Poppy… or worse.

“Samuel, don’t worry, she’s nothing malignant, at least, not to you or I.”

“But what is she?”

 “Can’t you tell? Think about it, Samuel. She’s attached herself to you, follows you, communicates with you, helped you with your spell…”

The lightbulb came on… he fell, ass-first and gracelessly, into the chair behind him.

“She’s a familiar.” He said, stunned. So very stunned he did not realize he still held Rowena’s hand. She used her free hand to bring a chair close and sit down. He sat up straight and they leaned their heads together, Sam so he could whisper, that way, hopefully, Dean and Jack couldn’t overhear them. Rowena just to get closer to him.

“What should I do? That sort of crosses a line for Dean. I don’t think he’ll be okay with that.”

“With what… a wee kitten that only wants to love and help you, and means no harm?”

“No, with whatever the wee kitten will turn into.”

“A grownup cat?” Rowena was very confused by this objection.

“No, I mean, when it shifts into a human form.”

“Samuel, what ever are you talking about?” she squeezed his hand, partially to see if he was aware yet that he held hers in his firm grip, and partially to comfort him, as he seemed extremely worried about something.

Sam told her about their last run in with familiars. Rowena now understood that they had come across a set of witches who had done some particularly disgusting magic to their animals. Rather than share her disgust with him, she said only,

“Samuel this is not that sort of familiar. This familiar will stay a cat. I promise.” She could promise with certainty, after all, since she had summoned it for him.

He seemed to relax a little at this. He lapsed into contemplation for a few moments. She smiled at him. Her eyes glittered with mirth as she tried to not giggle aloud.

He finally noticed the look on her face and smiled at her,

“What?” He wanted in on the joke, whatever it was. Even though he knew, from experience, it was probably at his expense.

“You are so precious, Samuel.” She gave his hand another squeeze. Then with a light laugh she said, “You named her Poppy!” She stood up and dropped a kiss on his blushing cheek. She turned to leave but felt him stand up behind her. He tugged on her hand; turning her back to him and pulled her towards him. Holding her close, he looked down at her and said,

“Thank you.” Then he leaned down and gave her a very promising kiss on the lips.

“For what?” she said in a breathless sigh when he finally released her.

“For telling me this privately and giving me a choice. That means more to me than you know.”

She turned away and let a knowing smile flitter across her face. Samuel Winchester needed her now. Instead of a rush of power, as she’d expected to feel, she felt a warm glow of something else. Something she could almost, but not quite, remember. Her smile faded as she suddenly became afraid she might need him, too.

They walked to the kitchen together, dropping their handhold and drifting away from each other as they approached the door.

“Well?” Dean demanded of them as soon as they entered.

Rowena delicately sat down at the table, where Jack and the teapot waited for her. It had not escaped her notice that a serviceable, if not elaborate, set of tea ware had appeared in the bunker after her first visit. Eventually, after Jack had come to live at the bunker, she learned this had been Samuel’s doing, because Jack had excitedly greeted her with his newfound knowledge, thanks to Samuel, of how to brew a pot of tea. It had become Jack’s responsibility to make “Auntie Rowena” her jorum, but she knew Samuel had made it so.

“Poppy is a familiar.” Sam said, tensely waiting for Dean to freak out.

“ ** _‘A’_** familiar, Sammy?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

Sam cleared his throat,

“Well, apparently,” deep breath, “she’s mine. She’s my familiar.”

The room was filled with a big, tense, loaded silence.

Finally, Dean said,

“How?”

“What do you mean?” Sam was confused by the question.

“What did you do that summoned her?” His tone was harsher than he meant it to be, because Dean was really asking a different question but couldn’t quite find the right words. How could he demand to know what sort of line Sam had crossed that the universe had decided Sam was a witch and needed an animal spirit helper? Whatever it was he was sure it hadn’t been on purpose and probably had something to do with the trial and error on the shield spell. So, he tamped down the urge to say anything that sounded like he was calling Sammy a monster.

“I don’t know.” Sam’s thoughts had been similar, he went through a mental list of all the variations he’d done on the shield spell.

“Is she,” Dean’s face betrayed a shudder of revulsion, “Going to turn into anything else?”

“No! Rowena says she is just going to stay a cat. She says Poppy is not that kind of a familiar.”

Relief flooded through Dean. That case had ooked him out on so many levels.

Rowena made a delicate sound, as if she were clearing her throat. They turned towards her.

“May I bring to your attention the fact that Poppy,” she smiled warmly as she said the name, still finding Samuel’s choice adorable, “does not seem to set off any of your fancy warding, nor whatever Samuel did to that spell he was tinkering with. Nor does Samuel himself set off any of the warding. So basically, Samuel just has a pet with some helpful qualities.” She sipped her tea and let them mull this over.

Sam heard this and felt a shock. It had never occurred to him that the bunker itself allowing him inside meant he was not evil. He’d spent most of his life fearing the “something bad” in his blood. The demon blood. The fact that the bunker didn’t shut down when he approached, that it let him in. The warding considered him benign and good…a weight shifted from inside of him.

Dean was thinking along these same lines. He’d never thought about the fact that the bunker itself would protect Sam from doing anything, even accidentally, evil.

The unspoken question he was being asked hung heavy in the air. Four sets of eyes watched him expectantly.

Dean let out a sigh.

“Okay,” he looked at Poppy and shook a finger at her. “but I am not cleaning the litter box… like, ever.”

Sam let out a breath in a rushed sigh and turned a thousand watt smile at Rowena. Her heart skipped a beat, and it showed in her face as she smiled back at him. Poppy sent herself to Sam’s shoulder once Sam had settled down with a mug of coffee at the table.

The smile Rowena and Sam had shared did not escape Dean’s notice, but Dean decided he could only deal with one shocking twist in a day and refused to think about whatever was going on there. He grabbed a beer out of the ice box and sat down with them.

Cass suddenly appeared.

“Hello.” He said, startling them a little.

Sam fought the urge to try and explain hunter check-ins to him again; to ask him to try to be more accurate with his time frames. But he knew Castiel’s perception of time was not the same as theirs, so he let it go.

Cass sat down and asked about the new member of the household that was batting at a lock of Sam’s hair from her perch on his shoulder. Jack excitedly launched into the story.

Dean looked over his strange little family.

It was weird.

It was perfect.

And it was his.


End file.
